Wake Up Call
by Agent Five
Summary: One shot. Season 4. A car crash leaves the brothers reeling and reflecting. And it was just what they needed.


_For Lillehafrue. Because she deserves some Sam whumpage. And I needed to have the brothers being brothers. This can be slotted anywhere in the first half Season 4 I guess, although I pictured it post Heaven and Hell._

_Disclaimer: don't own the characters or references to Supernatural._

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It took a moment for the gentle tapping on his cheek to filter through the thick fog inside his mind. Amid the many other unwelcome sensations that he was certain he did not want to be any more aware of, the persistent tapping was starting to bug him.

This, apparently, was exactly what was intended.

Sam opened his eyes and peered up at a blood and soot smeared familiar face.

"Oh, thank god …" Dean croaked, coughing dryly in the hot, dry air. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Sam regarded his brother in bewildered silence, alternately relieved and concerned at the lack of sensation throughout his heavy body.

"Hey …" Dean's tone softened a little and the hand that had been desperately trying to rouse Sam now rested gently against his cheek. "You hit your head pretty hard, dude … for a second there, I thought - " He closed his eyes at the notion and forced a smile to his weary face. "But you're back."

Back? Sam frowned in confusion and then began to recall vague flashes of being momentarily conscious. And at some point he had been in agony. Not that he wanted to feel such pain again - ever - but it was troubling to now sense … well, nothing. He visualized his crumpled form laying back in the buckled seat and tried to assess each limb in turn.

"Hey!"

Another tap from the soft fingers and Sam was torn from his musing. This time he flinched in response and the back of one hand smacked the inside of the crumpled door. It was sore but altogether a relief to know at least part of him was still functioning.

"Stay with me. Ok?" Dean urged, peering into Sam's ashen face and assessing pupil response in the weak glow of the interior light as his brother quietly gazed back at him. "Help is on the way. Just hold on." The hand resting on Sam's face slid down to grip his shoulder firmly and Dean offered him a smile filled with as much reassurance as their predicament would allow.

'Help' no doubt meant Bobby; if he was hurt bad enough to warrant a 911 call, the cavalry would surely have already arrived. Trying to remember just where they had crashed, Sam tried to calculate how long they might have been stranded there. The results made his chest ache with sympathy for his brother; Dean had done everything he could to keep control of the car. And when their flat spin from the road was all but inevitable, he had somehow ensured that they had met the edge of the forest as safely as they could, and without flipping. To then be all but alone in the ensuing wait for rescue must have been grueling to say the least.

"So - sorry …" Sam whispered.

Dean sat back from him and shook his head. "For what?" He saw the anguish that seemed to wash over his brother and quickly decided to lighten the otherwise hideous situation. "Hey. It's not like you told that damned kamikaze moose to head straight for us."

Sam's mouth cracked into a small smile. And then he remembered. The flash of brown fur, evasive maneuvering, the shadow of antlers against the sunset bright sky, sickening thuds and tires screeching. It was so unexpected, so quick.

"You - " Sam cleared his throat and gave a weak cough, the taste of smoldering plastic and extinguisher CO2 acrid on his tongue. "You're one hell of a pilot."

"Huh?" Dean frowned, almost blushing.

"You beat the odds." Sam explained, at once grateful and bewildered. "That was some landing."

Dean sat hunched in the driver's seat and shrugged modestly. "Could have been better." He ventured, casting a glance at the shattered remains of the Impala's nose where she was embedded in the tree and then nodding towards Sam.

Sam smiled quickly, "No. My fault. Crappy brace position." He saw his brother about to protest and shook his head, instantly regretting the movement as pain slice through his skull.

"Wo!" Dean was close beside him in an instant, his hands pressing carefully down on Sam's shuddering shoulders. "Lie still, dude!"

Biting his lip and blinking away tears, Sam tried to relax and forced out the breath he had clung on to.

"That's it … easy …" Dean soothed, moving one hand up to softly brush against Sam's forehead.

Sam hiccuped back fresh tears and clenched the hand that he could move into a tight fist. "I - oh god - Dean, I can't feel my legs!"

"What?" Dean jerked back as if stung and twisted round in the tight space to look down into the foot well. "Shit. Seriously?"

Closing his eyes and trying hard to regain something of his composure, Sam gave a silent nod.

"Okay …" Dean winced as bruises and scrapes on his own body protested at the position he needed to angle into to assess his brother. He reached down and placed his hand on Sam's left ankle, sliding careful fingers up to feel for any damage. "Feel that?"

Sam sobbed in response, his face tight with emotion as he suddenly smiled. "Just." He husked.

Dean stretched out his arm to check the other leg and heard his brother groan in relief. "There you go." He said softly, "It's just the shock of everything, Sammy. Okay?"

"Yeah." Sam managed, lifting his arm to cover his face with his hand. "Shit …"

"I know." Dean offered, "You'll be okay." He continued his assessment and hissed slightly.

"What about you?" Sam asked hurriedly. "Dean? You okay?"

His heart in his throat, Dean held his breath and pulled his hand out from under Sam's right knee. He stared in horror at the sticky blood that coated his fingers and his stomach lurched.

"Dean?"

Sam lifted his head as much as he could manage and reached out to grasp his brother's shoulder. "Hey. You okay?"

Dean glanced up at his brother and managed a small nod. "Yeah … it's …" he slid closer against Sam's left hip and craned over him. Pressing his hand against Sam's thigh, he slowly rolled his brother's leg towards him. "I just need to - " He leaned in to see the blood-soaked upholstery and torn denim, tasting bile as he saw the edge of the wound in Sam's thigh. He slid his other hand under Sam's knee to pull his leg upwards to assess the extent of the damage and Sam screamed.

"Oh god - " Sam sobbed, his previously still form shaking roughly. "God, that hurts!"

Releasing Sam's leg, Dean winced as his brother's fingers dug into the flesh of his upper arm. "Okay, I gotta stop this bleeding." He explained quickly, sitting upright to hurriedly slide his belt loose. As swiftly and carefully as he could, he wrapped the makeshift tourniquet around Sam's thigh and pulled it tight.

Arching his back from the seat and making another desperate grab for his brother's arms, Sam cried out in agony. "Ah, shit! Stop! Please - stop!"

"I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." Dean urged quickly, "Sam? Sammy, calm down. Come on." He shuffled back up to press himself against Sam's side and took hold of his brother's shoulders as he continued to try and soothe him. The gesture resulted in Sam grabbing fistfuls of Dean's jacket and he pulled himself almost upright, whimpering in gratitude as Dean slid his arms around him and clutched him close.

His brother clinging to him and Sam's quick breaths heating up the skin of Dean's neck, Dean closed his eyes and held his brother tight against him. It took a few minutes for Sam to calm and as his groaning died away, Dean found himself transported to a moment so similar to this many years previously.

Despite his initial bravado, in the days after Jessica's death Sam withdrew into his grief and would not eat, literally wasting away. Refusing to talk, hidden inside his thoughts and weary from his nightmare-plagued lack of sleep, Sam had almost been lost from him. But late one evening Dean had pestered his brother relentlessly, until Sam had suddenly snapped. Dean had been ready for the angry lashing out and harsh words his brother had spat at him but was the desperate sobbing that had broken Dean's heart.

Sam was clutching at Dean in much the same way now, shivering and whimpering. And Dean could do nothing but hold him close. That and fumble for the cellphone in his pocket.

Aware of Dean talking to someone and the details he explained making Sam's body grow even colder, Sam relaxed his grip on his brother and gritted his teeth as he was rested gently back against the seat.

Dean ended the call and sighed wearily.

Sam swallowed back the bile in his throat and looked up at his brother. "That bad, huh?"

"I think so. Yeah." Dean affirmed quietly. "I'm sorry, Sammy, I thought I'd checked you over but with the door buckled like that - "

"Hey, hey. Don't." Sam urged, "This isn't your fault, man." His brother was unconvinced and he reached out to press his hand into Dean's chest. "It's not. Okay?" A small nod and Sam saw Dean slowly concede. "So …" Sam glanced warily down at his leg, noting the sharp angles of the imploded door and the blood smeared on the edges. "Bad, huh?"

"Looks like."

"Shit …"

"Sammy, I'm - "

"No! Say you're sorry one more time and I'll start swinging!" Sam shouted suddenly, his face tight with pain. He watched his brother seemingly fighting back tears and Sam frowned in concern.

Dean rested back against the seat and looked down at his hands, uncomfortable under his brother's quiet scrutiny.

After a moment, Sam looked away and groaned softly, "Shit, dude … the car …" He offered, looking around them at the damage.

Dean gasped in wonder, "To hell with the car, Sammy! You - " His tight voice caught his throat and he shook his head in dismay. "You could have - " Closing his eyes, he shuddered and then suddenly took a deep breath, looking up and forcing a small smile. "I'm clean out of favors, Sammy …"

It was all suddenly too much to take in. Sam could feel fresh tears gathering as he considered all that they had been through together, what his brother had sacrificed to save him, how much it had hurt to lose him. And how far apart they had become, even now when sitting only inches apart.

"None of it matters, Sammy." Dean continued softly, "It doesn't mean anything … not if I lose you again …"

Sam turned to meet the sincerity and pain in his brother's face and could barely breathe. He closed his eyes and, without a word, pushed himself away from the seat and leaned towards Dean.

Understanding the unspoken need, Dean gathered his brother into him once again and let Sam rest against him. It felt so right. There was a time when closeness like this had seemed so alien, so unwanted. But as he hugged Sam close, all he could think of was that his little brother needed him and that there was in fact nothing he would not do to keep him safe. And as the sirens could be heard approaching in the distance, he was aware of Sam crying softly into his chest and somehow knew it was nothing to do with the pain.

- fin -


End file.
